


Overwhelmed

by ItsJustaDressDummy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asanoya Week 2020, College, Fashion & Couture, Fluff, Graduation, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsJustaDressDummy/pseuds/ItsJustaDressDummy
Summary: Asahi sewed clothes, but for his graduation fashion show at Bunka, he sewed a compendium of his feelings for Noya.-Written for AsaNoya Week 2020 for the prompt "graduation/timeskip".
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu
Comments: 15
Kudos: 59
Collections: Asanoya Week 2020





	Overwhelmed

Takagi-Sensei’s choice in music had been flawless. No booming bass, no ditzy pop lyrics. Just a woman’s calm vocals, something that could have been a glockenspiel, the quiet clack of drumsticks. It was understated, composed. From Asahi’s limited backstage view, it seemed that the colors and fabrics flowed even more beautifully through the air to the yearning tones of the song.

Asahi tore his gaze away from the spectacle and turned back to his models. They all looked so incredibly excited. Like Asahi, they were barely starting out in the industry, all having just been accepted at an agency in Shibuya that was one of Bunka’s usual hunting grounds for models. He smiled at them, exhilarated and terrified and shellshocked. Six faces beamed back at him. Gino, who was presenting his ready-to-wear creation, winked at him from under his hood and got in line to walk out onto the cat walk. With Asahi’s clothes on. At a fashion show, the last of his many exams at Bunka and the first cat walk on which the world would witness and judge his garments. Well, maybe not the world. More like his teachers, some family and friends, but also some fashion magazine editors and label owners from Tokio.

Asahi couldn’t decide whether he should instantaneously combust or melt through the floor boards. In the end, he did neither, but dabbed a little bit more at Kiko’s wet eyes. She had burst out into tears when putting on his gown, crying about how grateful she was to present something so stunning to the audience, of all things. Since it wasn’t the first time she had been fitted in the dress, Asahi suspected the tears to be more a product of her shot nerves than the mind-blowing beauty of his sewing skills. But still, it had been a nice thing to say. 

While Kiko was still taking deep breaths, Gino stepped out onto the cat walk. For a single moment, Asahi’s heart completely stopped. No air, no circulation, just disbelief. Then Gino stalked down the stage, and Asahi’s heart drummed inside his chest. He couldn’t see it, but imagined Gino’s light eyes popping like spotlights under the dark grey hood. Asahi had wanted to translate what he’d felt when he’d looked at Noya’s picture on his phone at six in the afternoon, packed like a sardine in a can on the Keio Line. A snapshot of the Amazon forest at night, trees lashing amid an impenetrable storm, shades of grey and bursting light. And right in the middle of the picture, an ocelot looking right at him, crouched under a fern, assessing, waiting. A predator chaining you down with a simple look in fear and awe.

It had been incredible. Asahi couldn’t count how many times he’d looked up the photo on his phone until he’d finally printed it out and pinned it over his work station. It had been an inspiration just as much as a distraction. He’d wonder every time how Noya was doing, where he was exactly. And he’d _long_ for him, fiercely, like he’d done sometimes in high school, standing next to him, watching him laugh and grin, completely unaware that he was the zest of life itself, and everything Asahi ever wanted.

Asahi loved these pictures. The snapshots Noya would send to him from all over the world. The fragile thread they created between him and the man he couldn’t let go of. Sometimes, Asahi thought he could feel him, then, a little. Through the pixels, on the other end of his phone, typing away about the last shot he’d send him, telling him stories, being so happy. And free.

Gino had reached the head of the catwalk, hopefully dazzled the audience and was on his way back. Asahi saw the almost imperceptible curl on his lips and thought that it was just perfect.

He turned to Megumi, helped her adjust the veil over her face. For casual wear, it was probably a little overkill, but fuck it, the veil looked amazing on her. It fit the simple, a-line black shirt on her well. And especially the fine pattern of dusty skulls and bones he’d sewn along the seams, the more elaborate embroidering he’d done over the shoulders. Asahi would have really liked to have seen that himself, the ossuary of San Bernardino alle Ossa. Although it would have probably creeped him out a lot. Maybe if he could have held Noya’s hand…

Asahi dispersed the thought quickly, gave Megumi one last encouraging smile. She winked at him exaggeratedly, a clear homage to Gino’s parting. Just as she took her spot in the row of models, Gino came walking back down. They high-fived as they passed each other. The excited grin on Gino’s face had to be a good sign. Asahi desperately wanted it to be a good sign.

„I think they liked it,“ Gino exclaimed, a little out of breath, „I mean, I couldn’t see for shit, but I think they liked it.“

Before Asahi could say anything to that, GiGi chimed in, „I’m sure they did. Your heart and soul shines through these clothes, so the people are witnessing your beauty through them.“

GiGi was going to kill him with these cryptic praises she kept showering him with. „Thanks,“ Asahi croaked and spun her earring around so it faced the right direction. She smiled at him kindly, looking absolutely regal in her sheath dress made out of beads and feathers in gold and cinnamon. Her dark skin made the colors pop. Just like he’d seen it when he’d looked at those rows of huts in the scorching heat under the African sun, only eclipsed by the wide smile on Noya’s sweaty face.

GiGi gave him a nod and made her way to the catwalk when Takagi-Sensei signaled for the first run of the couture models. Asahi peered out onto the stage. Megumi did her spin on the platform, looking like the modern, fashionable version of Madeline Usher.

Asahi looked back to his flock of models. Gino was describing his experience in excruciating detail to Kiko, who looked fascinated and horrified. Paulina, decked out in an overflowing abundance of Latvian forest flowers, was unperturbed. Asahi envied her this calmness. He felt a little bit like pulling his own hair out, but GiGi had put so much effort into styling them into this smooth top knot. So he busied his hands by fiddling with Yutaka’s cufflinks. The white porcelain felt cool on his fingertips, and the royal blue marlins on them made him smile. The cufflinks were as literal as Asahi would allow himself to get.

Then it was time for GiGi’s walk. Through all his vomit inducing nervousness, GiGi’s poise and elegance didn’t fail to capture him completely. She made the dress shine like a jewel under the bright lights. 

Asahi felt a little bit touched. They were all trying so hard for him, giving their best to make him succeed. He thought of the ball shooting right past him, down on to the ground and Noya catching it with his _foot_ , transforming Asahi’s failure into another chance like pure magic.

Asahi’s heart beat so fast it made his head spin. He gave Paulina a shaky thumbs-up that she returned with a quirk. The petals and leaves swayed with her movements as she walked to join the other models on the way to the catwalk. So many sleepless nights Asahi had spent polishing the material for this dress, making sure the flowers looked as if they were freshly plucked from the meadow, as if somebody had just happened to wander into the forests close to Marienburg and collected a few. Wild orchid flowers and hydrangea, helleborine, crossleaf heath, anomanes and lilies of the valley. The only thing missing was Noya’s hand, presenting his wild flower bouquet to the camera like a gift.

He turned to Kiko and Yutaka. While the man presenting his three-piece evening wear seemed at peace, the woman looked like she wanted to bolt. Asahi couldn’t exactly blame her. It was kind of a lot, especially when he considered all of the wonderful, creative pieces of his classmates. But _this_ , he wanted the world to see, against all his fears and doubts.

Distractedly, he flicked a speck of dust from Yutaka’s suit, smoothed down the lapels. He loved this piece, almost as much as he loved the picture it was based on. The cut was simple, slim, but elegant. The jacket gleamed with double-breasted mother-of-pearl buttons that reflected the marine inspiration. They actually clashed horribly with the cufflinks, but those were the secret crown pieces of Asahi’s collection. He’d had no choice but to use them, even while his fashion sense cringed a little. Honestly, it was one of those outfits that you looked at and wondered why it worked, because it shouldn’t. The dark blue suit paired with the daffodil yellow waistcoat and the white shirt, the bow tie and socks both in tiger orange. It should’ve looked weird, but instead it just looked fun, quirky somehow. With the tiger orange, he’d even incorporated some of Noya’s own clothes from the picture that had inspired the piece. He could only think of the ridiculous way Noya had propped up his foot like a pirate, his face glistening with pride as he presented the fish. Even the thought evoked such a warm fondness in Asahi that he almost forgot to be nervous.

GiGi rejoined them with a satisfied look. She pointed behind him, and Asahi glanced at the catwalk. Graceful and light, Paulina floated across the stage like a fairy. Oh God, this was it, this was the moment where he’d start to cry his eyes out. He almost sniveled when he heard somebody else do it for him.

A few tears slipped from Kiko’s eyes. Asahi dabbed them away before they could ruin her eyeliner. „You, you don’t have to be nervous,“ said the man about to implode from nerves, „You’re going to do an amazing job. You practiced so many times, it’s going to be fine.“ Yutaka tapped him on the shoulder, and Asahi waved at him while he walked over to the line of models.

Kiko nodded, snuffled dramatically. „Yeah, yeah, y-you’re right. I just really hope I get the timing right, I, I mean it would totally ruin the impact if I don’t get the timing right.“

Asahi thought about patting her shoulder, but his hand was probably drenched in sweat. „You did it before. I’m sure you’ll be perfect.“

„Okay, okay, yes, okay,“ Kiko murmured and blinked away her tears.

She took his sweaty hand into her own. Together, they watched the endless row of shiny people wearing shiny garments crossing the stage. When Yutaka walked out, Asahi’s heart seized. He was just brimming with confidence, the blue material of his suit glinting slightly under the lights like scales. Suddenly, Asahi wished he’d taken one of Noya’s pictures with him, just so he could feel it, touch it in the pocket of his dress pants. To give himself the illusion that he was sharing this with him.

Yutaka spun around and walked back as Asahi turned to Kiko for just one last look. This one, it had been just a moment. During the shrine festival of Noya’s last year in Karasuno. Dressed in his boring grey yukata next to Noya’s patterned with lion dogs, out on the porch of Noya’s home talking about what they wanted out of life. And then not talking at all, just watching the fade and spill of colors as the sun fell towards the horizon, the rising stars and moon. Without asking, Noya had handed Asahi a sparkler. Noya’s own had sizzled to life in the flame, and Asahi had touched the tip of his sparkler to Noya’s, waiting for the blaze to leap. Their hands had almost touched. In the heat of the summer, with nothing but the cicadas and the evening breeze as witnesses. Tipping his sparkler against Noya’s, watching how it lit up in glimmers and light and heat. Consuming Asahi, igniting him from head to toe.

There was a small lump in Asahi’s throat, so he cleared it. He grasped Kiko’s shoulder and said, „You’ll be perfect.“

She nodded and joined the models for their last run. Asahi watched them walk and strut over the catwalk, a strange mixture of confidence and tension in him. The clacking of heels alerted him to Yutaka’s return. „Asahi-San, I’m sorry I fucked up,“ he blurted.

Asahi stared at him. „You-“ „I grinned.“ Asahi blinked at him. „Just before I spun. I don’t know, it was so much fun, and then I grinned. I’m sorry, it was rude, and I hope it didn’t distract from your piece, I mean, the suit-“

Asahi laughed, thought about Noya’s grinning face hovering over the marlin. „Don’t worry,“ he said, „You presented the spirit of the suit perfectly, actually.“

Yutaka didn’t seem consoled, but nodded. In a weak gesture of comfort, Asahi patted his shoulder, too. He looked out onto the stage. Not Kiko, not Kiko, another model that wasn’t Kiko, not Kiko… There.

She had a graceful walk. Not like the airy lightness of Paulina, but delicate, balletic almost. Quiet. The tulle of her skirts was one hundred percent silk and had sucked Asahi’s budget bone-dry. He recalled the nights he’d spent scratching his arms raw from frustration. Struggling with the fabric dye, the colors too vivid or too dark, not at all how the dusk in Asahi’s memory looked like. But when he saw the way it flowed around her now, how the top powder pink spilled and dissolved into peach, apricot, salmon, crimson, all the way down into Prussian blue, it had all been so worth it.

Kiko reached half of the runway, just walked past the model coming back from her spin. The stage was hers. Swiftly, she grabbed at the ribbons on her shoulder, pulled on them like ripcords. Crossed over, the ends touching. His sparkler tipping against Noya’s. Despite the heart attack he was experiencing, Asahi almost laughed. The knots loosened, and the high collar on her shoulder that was actually just a tight roll of fabric unfurled. Black tulle surged out behind her like a wave. Bursts of pearls, sequin and rhinestone sparkled under the spotlights in silver and gold. Asahi watched the fireworks shoot up into the air and clenched his fist against the ache in his chest. He should have said something back then, anything, anything at all. But he hadn’t.

At the end of the stage, Kiko stopped. The cape billowed around her, and she grabbed it, pulled the fabric around her, puffed it out briefly before wrapping it around her shoulders. The tulle glittered as she raised her chin. They hadn’t practiced that, but Asahi adored it, adored her. Then she turned, drew the cape in a circle across the runway. Low, so that the audience could see every tiny stone and bead and hopefully gorge themselves on the drama.

Asahi watched Kiko walk back. Somebody clapped him on the shoulder, but he didn’t react. Just watched the sparkles shimmer.

Kiko exited the catwalk and fell into his arms. „You were gorgeous,“ Asahi blurted, „Incredibly gorgeous, thank you, thank you.“ Kiko just laughed into his shoulder.

The music died down. Takagi-Sensei shouted, „Okay, curtain calls, everybody together with their models!“

The backstage crowd regrouped, and then it was already time for the first designer to take the stage. They had to walk out with their models to the end of the catwalk and bow. Asahi wasn’t a big fan of walking down the entire stage. He’d have preferred just to stand at the exit while his models took the runway, but since everybody did it, he’d just bear with it.

They all received rapturous applause, the occasional whooping from friends and family. It suddenly hit him. What if Suga had brought a _sign_?

Takagi-Sensei called his name, and Asahi started walking behind his models. The stairs were already so slippery, God, how was it that nobody had twisted their ankle on them? Maybe Asahi would be the first.

Together, they walked out onto the runway and wow, Gino hadn’t been lying. Asahi couldn’t see shit, only his models and the glare of the spotlights. In the periphery of his mind, he heard the applause, some shouting, but he was too busy focusing on walking and not folding up like a deckchair to really comprehend it. His models reached the end of the catwalk and turned around to him. They were all smiles, full of delight and joy. Asahi walked up to them, grateful that they could all share this moment together.

He stopped behind Yutaka and Paulina, but got shoved in between them by several hands. Not seeing a single thing, Asahi stood at the front of the runway and bowed. He counted to three, then raised himself. After trying a likely bewildered smile, he walked back. The applause suddenly rose, and Asahi turned around just in time to see Kiko soaring her cape up high into the lights while she turned. A glinting and twinkling night sky catching fire. Asahi grinned as his heart seized.

They walked down the runway and squashed themselves next to the other groups of models and designers. Only a couple of designers were left, and soon they listened to Takagi-Sensei’s closing speech. Asahi didn’t listen to a single word and was too out of it to feel guilty for it.

There was some applause again, and they all exited the catwalk. It was all a bit of a blur. The classmates congratulating and complimenting each other, the shaky pictures he took with his models, the teary-eyed toast of his class with sparkling wine that he gulped down in two swallows. Throughout all of it, Asahi’s phone burnt a hole in his pocket. His fingers itched to dial Noya’s number, to hear his voice and tell him that he’d walked down a runway without falling once. But soon enough, his empty glass got plucked from his hands, and he was ushered outside again.

Somebody had removed all the foldable chairs, leaving behind a vast space for people to drink and mingle. Disoriented, Asahi walked through the crowd. Somebody had already stopped Yutaka and was inspecting the buttons on his jacket. Asahi got ready to talk shop. He had no idea who the middle-aged lady was, but was already flattered that she was showing interest in his creation. He opened his mouth just as somebody pulled him around by the shoulder and attempted to murder him with a hug.

„Asahi, you are completely ridiculous!“ Suga half-shouted into his shirt.

„Ah, thanks?“ he squeezed out.

„Completely ridiculous! All the lunch dates you missed with us were totally worth it, I’m proud of you!“ Asahi got released from Suga’s death hold and looked at him. His face was flushed, a manic glint to his eyes. There was definitely something that he knew that Asahi _didn’t_. From experience, he knew that this didn’t bode well for him.

Daichi’s hug was next, which was just as bonebreaking, but in that subdued, manly way. „Everything you did was really phenomenal. Congratulation.“

Asahi replied, „Thank you.“ He looked at their beaming faces, and felt glad. Just… not glad enough. God, he was awful, but the _one_ person he really wanted to share this with wasn’t even here. 

Swallowing, he took out his phone. „Do you mind if we take a picture?“ he asked, „I’d like to send-“

„A picture without my handsome face in it?“

And of course Asahi looked, because why wouldn’t he. But before his eyes even took in the spiked hair or the wide eyes or the huge grin, his heart already stopped.

„Nishinoya.“ It came out in one breath. But wasn’t there something he was missing? Some kind of honorific or something, but now, now Asahi just couldn’t remember, because Noya, how was he even, but he _was_ , right here, just, just _right_ -

„Do I not get a hug or something?“ Noya asked, but Asahi could see it in his face and hear it in his voice, eyes wide and tone high-pitched, for some reason Noya was barely keeping it together and he was _here_.

Asahi stumbled into his arms. His hair smelt like the gel he was using and stale air, like he’d just stepped off the plane. He felt warm, familiar, it, that was _Nishinoya_. Asahi’s arms squeezed around him. „Oh my God,“ he stammered, because oh my God!

Noya clenched his fists so tight in Asahi’s shirt that he could feel it slip out of his waistband. „Yeah, yeah,“ he said.

Asahi felt his lips tremble and pulled away before he could embarrass either of them. But Noya didn’t let him. He just kept his arms right where they were snug around Asahi’s chest. 

„Asahi,“ Noya said, and surely he was also forgetting something, but Asahi couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was, because his name sounded really good like that from Noya’s mouth, „Show me your work station.“

Now, he, just go, to, to, like-

„Okay,“ Asahi replied, no other possible answer, since Noya was already pulling him along to the doors anyway. Somebody might have called his name, but they also might have not called his name, and Asahi didn’t care.

Noya was holding his wrist while Asahi lead them through the school. What was even going on, was he really walking through his university with Noya, was that a real thing that was happening? Asahi turned around just to confirm, because it couldn’t be, right? Noya looked back at him with the same face from years ago, but with that new expression. Eyes so vibrant they looked almost damp, lips curled into a smile that should have hurt, but didn’t seem to.

Asahi almost ran into a wall if Noya hadn’t jerked him away at the last second. He didn’t even make fun of Asahi.

They reached his work station, and Asahi fumbled with the key. Being a Third Year at Bunka had many perks, including his own tiny workroom. He only realized that it had one downside he hadn’t considered as the door closed behind them, and he switched on the desk lamp. His pinboard was wallpapered from top to bottom with pictures of Noya. From his travels, posing, eating, hiking, drinking, sitting, fishing. Some he had even printed out multiple times, in different sizes and saturations. But Noya wasn’t even looking at the stalwart evidence of his obsession. He was just staring at Asahi, standing there.

Ah, but Noya didn’t even need to see the pinboard. Because Asahi had sewn him a love letter with stitches and embroidery and every drop of feeling he had for him.

Noya took a step and was suddenly pressed against him. His hands were on Asahi’s face, his chest, his throat, flittering over him like wings. Then he clutched at Asahi’s collar and pulled him down.

„I saw,“ he breathed, the spark in his eyes exactly like in Asahi’s memory, „Asahi, I _saw_.“

Noya kissed him. Rough edges and soft lips, demanding and taking in the same moment. Asahi twitched. Carded his fingers into Noya’s hair and kept them there, brushed his tongue under Noya’s. His lips were trembling again, but this time, he didn’t pull away.

Noya traced the tremors with his tongue and whispered, „Like a fucking skywriting, since, since when are you this _bold_.“

Asahi had to bite into Noya’s lower lip before answering. He’d been dying to do that for _years_. „Didn’t think you’d get it,“ he murmured, Noya’s lip sliding through his teeth. 

Noya pulled away far enough to stare into his eyes. „The marlin?“ he hissed, „Like I wouldn’t see that? The ossuary? The huts? The…“ A breath. „The sparklers? I think about that every fucking day, we almost touched hands-“

Asahi made a sound. Something like a sob and a laugh, so embarrassing he had to kiss Noya again to make it stop. 

He’d seen it. The longing in every thread, the love in every stitch. A screaming confession, made decipherable by his own feelings for Asahi.

They kissed. Later, they would go back to the others, fend off Daichi’s celebratory hair ruffles and Suga’s endless hugs. Asahi would stammer his way through questions about his garments, half his mind on the hand that was resting in his own. Noya would delight in squeezing Asahi’s hand, watching him twitch and think about all the ways that he wanted to make him scream tonight.

But for now, they kissed.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this work was inspired by the song I was listening to while writing this, Overwhelmed by CALLmeKAT (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bke9T6qm8Y0). It's the same song that the models are walking down the catwalk to, but you can of course imagine any song you want. :) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!


End file.
